Oh You Meant Me?
by darthsydious
Summary: Tumblr prompt fill. Swap!lock where Sherlock is the one with the crush, and Molly has no idea. Sherlock finally gets Molly to take the hint. Sherlolly. Cheeky John.


"Any luck?"

Sherlock looked up, startled. "What?"

"With the flowers," John nodded to the bouquet on Molly's desk. "You bought them, didn't you?"

Sherlock scowled, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. "Not according to her."

"What's that mean?" John asked, amused.

"Means she didn't read the card, obviously."

"Why not take her to lunch or something?"

"Because, John, she's not that sort of…ugh." Sherlock stalked off, glowering. He waited until John had caught up with him. "She doesn't take hints very well."

"Well, knowing you, you didn't put the card in the flowers," John said.

"I…had it written out…"

"Okay, but still missing the point."

"Well…she should know by now nobody buys her flowers, she could have seen me walk in with them!" Sherlock blustered.

"Okay," John nodded, humoring him. "How?"

"Well…when…through security feeds!" Sherlock tried.

"Mm, right, and when does she have time to hack the security feeds, on her lunch hour?" John shook his head. "Sherlock, just ask her out."

"Ask who what?"

Both men turned with a start.

"Uh…" Sherlock flicked a nervous glance to John, then back at Molly.

"Sherlock is taking you to lunch," John said. "That's nice of you, Sherlock, well I'm going back home, let me know if anything comes up!" he slapped his friend on the back, waved goodbye to Molly and jogged off.

"So…lunch?" Molly asked, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Sherlock followed the curve of her fingers, distracted. Blinking quickly, he shrugged.

"Yes! No…I…had thought dinner…instead."

"Okay," Molly shrugged. "For what though?"

"To…thank you," he decided, mentally berating himself. "You're quite singular, Molly Hooper."

 _Ah, better._

"Sounds like fun!" she smiled brightly. "I've got loads to do, so lunch wouldn't have worked out anyway, I'll see you tonight, seven-ish?"

"Yes, I'll pick you up-"

"Oh no it'll be faster if I meet you, what's the address?"

A plan quickly formulated in his mind. "You know Angelo's restaurant?"

"I do, love it there."

"Yes I know," he murmured.

"What?"

"I said 'Oh good'," he answered quickly, flustered. "Yes. Angelo's. Seven-fifteen."

"Right. Okay!" she jotted down the time and place on the notebook she carried. "See you then!"

Sherlock would have been lying if he said he'd nearly ducked his head to kiss her cheek, but she was past him before he could complete the motion. Well, there would be time for kissing later…he hoped.

Sherlock Holmes was, for lack of a better word, utterly besotted. Molly Hooper, for whatever reason, either had no idea, or no interest. He felt rather sick to his stomach, the idea of her rejecting him, and thus ending their friendship. Perhaps she was oblivious, it was entirely possible, after all, it wasn't as if he'd been clear from the start how he'd have liked their relationship to go. Well, he could and would clear all that up tonight.

 **Later that evening, around seven-ish**

Molly ran a hand through her still slightly-damp hair. The windy evening had mostly dried it, but she was all-too-aware she looked rather wind-blown as she stepped through the doors to Angelo's restaurant.

"Sherlock Holmes' party," she murmured, breathless, trying to comb down her hair.

"Yes of course Miss Hooper, this way," she was about to thank the hostess when she looked up, and suddenly wished she'd put on a nicer dress. Not that she was improperly dressed, but it was just a plain black sheath dress, one that allowed her to move freely while she worked.

Looking around the restaurant, Molly couldn't help but stare.  
"Where um…where is everyone?" she asked.

"The restaurant is yours for the evening," the host pulled aside the curtain to the outer patio. There was a single table, candles and paper lanterns decorated the railing. Wine was being chilled and a bouquet of heady peonies and roses sat on the table. "Enjoy."

Molly couldn't speak, still staring at the grand gesture that was spread before her. This was not a friendly dinner to say 'thank-you', and she felt quite foolish suddenly, for not having seen Sherlock's attempted advances before. It all made sense! His spending time in the lab even if he had no cases or experiments, his assistance on her caseloads, the mysterious bouquet of flowers that showed up twice a month…

Sherlock appeared, muttering to himself as he wrestled with a champagne bottle, clearly trying to get the cork out. He was dressed quite nicely in an rich aubergine button-down, and one of his nicer suits (though to be fair, all of his suits were nice).

"Oh…" Molly finally spoke.

The cork finally popped out with a terrific 'crack!', just as he realized she was standing there. He cursed under his breath as the champagne foamed over, he grabbed the cloth from the handle of the bucket, wrapping it around the neck.

She couldn't move, or else she'd have helped him. Rooted to her spot, she again took in the beautiful sight. A lovely reserved restaurant for two, candles and flowers and champagne...and Sherlock, trying his hardest to appear blasé about half a bottle of wine foaming over his hand.

"Molly," he tried.

"You meant me…" she finally managed, and he met her gaze.

He quirked a smile, nodding. "Yes. All this time I've been making rather a poor show of trying to tell you but-"

"No, I'm just dense sometimes, you were lovely, and I'm sorry if I misunderstood," she shook her head quickly. "I just…I never expected," she gestured to their surroundings, then to herself. "I never expected anyone to do this for me and I'm…" she blushed, smiling at her feet for a moment. "I'm overwhelmed, if I'm quite honest," she laughed, nervous, but she dared a step forward.

"So…you'll stay?" he too, moved nearer.

Shy again, she nodded, pushing her hair behind her ears again. "I'm sorry I'm not properly dressed," she gestured to herself. "If I'd known I-I've got a really beautiful dress at home, it's dark green and velvet and not just an old work sheath."

"You look lovely," he said, quite honestly, and held her chair for her. "I'm just glad you came."

"I'll always come when you need me to, Sherlock," Molly replied. "If I seem surprised it's because…I guess I never expected someone like you to want someone like me."

He looked at her as if she had two heads. "I find that hard to believe, considering your brilliance, your fascinating line of work, to say nothing of your physical features," the waiter stood by the doorway, and Sherlock noticed. "I could go on," he said. "But there is the waiter with the menu, but I would like to discuss what our future would be, should we continue this relationship on a more intimate level."

"I'd like that," she nodded, flushing, eyes shining at him.


End file.
